iRock Pregnancy
by JuliIsMe
Summary: When alien couple Timothy and Lila accidentally sent an asteroid that, when touched, impregnates the recipient to Earth, they could never truly grasp the effect it would have on Sam and Freddie - a teenage couple who now have to deal with the repercussions of an alien pregnancy.
1. Chapter 1

Another asteroid flew past the window of the home as Lila walked down the corridor, a computer tucked under her arm. The security camera watching their home followed the _click, click, click_ of her heels as she walked down the twisting corridors, past the kitchen, past her children's rooms and to the door of her husband's study.

Timothy sat hunched over his computer, a crumbled cup of coffee at his side. Lila knew her husband was overworked, but she hadn't been aware how bad it was.

Lila and Timothy were in charge of sending fetuses to different planets. It was much more effective than the human's method of producing offspring, but also much more stressful on the aliens in charge.

Lila wrapped her arms around her husband's shoulders and put her head in the crook of his neck as he worked. He put his hand to hers and squeezed her hands before returning to his work. In front of them was a list of rocks they had sent out that week; all of them with a green check to say they had been delivered, except for one, with a red **x** next to it instead.

"Tim," Lila said gently, to get her husband's attention.

"Hm?" Timothy replied.

"Where's that rock?" When Timothy just responded with a non-committal hum, Lila pointed to the red rock. "That one. Rock number 024678?" He clicked it and read through the history. "I sent it to Mrs. Wakerburg within the last hour."

Lila pulled up a chair and sat next to her husband as he read through the log. "Well?" she asked. "Where is it now?"

Timothy took the cup of coffee next to him and sipped it. He stopped scrolling after a minute and slowly put the mug down. "Oh," he said gently. "Oh god."

"What?" Lila asked. She looked quickly at the logs then back at her husband. "What is it?"

Timothy turned back to her, a frantic look in his eyes. "It got knocked off course," he answered. "It's in Seattle, Washington."

Meanwhile, Freddie was in bed when a loud crash woke him. He was out of bed in a flash and ran over to his window, pulled back the curtains to see what had happened. There was a giant rock in front of the Bushwell, huge and glowing pink. No one else seemed to notice it, and Freddie was about to call some sort of emergency service when he noticed someone walk out of the building.

It was his girlfriend, Sam, wearing only a t-shirt and sweats and without shoes in the harsh, October air. She was walking slowly towards the rock as if in a trance.

Freddie pulled a sweatshirt over his head and raced down the winding stairs with a sweater for his girlfriend. He broke through the doors frantically and called out, "Sam!"

Sam turned to Freddie and smiled gently at him. "Freddie," she said gently, beckoning him over. Freddie didn't move; he had never seen anything like this behavior from his girlfriend, who was usually loud and abrasive.

"What are you doing?" Freddie asked from the doorway. He held up the sweater, one arm in the warm of the Bushwell lobby, the rest of his body hanging out the door. "Get out of the cold, get away from that thing."

Sam turned from him and continued walking towards the rock, which was now pulsing with glowing energy. As if in slow motion, Sam reached her hand out for the rock. Freddie sprinted and grabbed her hand, but it was too late; Freddie felt a prick in his hand just as he watched the light spread through Sam's arm and gather in her abdomen before dissolving, the rock blinking out of existence as if it had never been there in the first place.

Sam collapsed into Freddie, who caught her and covered her shoulders with the blanket. "What?" Sam asked groggily as if raising from a sleep. "What happened? Why are we outside?" She pushed her boyfriend away with a soft, "get off of me," and stood.

"Sam," Freddie said gently. He slowly reached out to grab her arm. "Are you okay?"

Sam blinked slowly and shook her head. "No," she answered. "I-I feel-" She didn't finish her sentence before she took off running, Freddie hot on her heels. She knelt behind a bush and dry heaved, the sound harsh in her throat. Freddie walked up behind her and held her hair out of her face, rubbed her back gently.

He wasn't sure what had happened, but one thing was certain. Sam needed to see a doctor immediately.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

So I feel like I owe everyone (myself included) a bit of an explanation for this fic.

To be very clear, I don't partake in the iCarly fandom and I haven't since I was around 12 in 2012 (which I feel like explains a lot). This fic is a rewrite of one of my more notorious iCarly fanfics, called iRock Pregnancy. I wrote the original when I was just 11 years old and I thought it was revolutionary. Cut to today and it's a bit of a joke among my friend group. I rewrote the first chapter on a bet from one of my friends, attempting to give this very loose plot something resembling good writing.

Since then, rewriting this fic has actually been something I've done to calm myself done when I'm anxious, as I suffer from an anxiety disorder. I'm aware that it's dumb, but being able to bring life to a plot that I don't particularly care for is freeing - when I'm not attached to the plot, it's easy to just experiment with my writing.

I hope you enjoy this. Feel free to leave a review if you want (especially if you read the first iRock Pregnancy because holy shit) and I'll try to reply. Also, if you want to read my actual fanfiction, or you're just curious where I've been for five years, feel free to follow me on Tumblr.

Thank you!

-Seb


	2. Chapter 2

Outside the hospital room was the sound of shoes on the ground, babies crying, people groaning in pain. Freddie's watched blinked a harsh _1:15 AM_ at him. He knew his mom was going to be pissed about him being out after curfew, but he found he could care less. All he cared about was Sam, curled into his side as he stood next to the bed, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"Yep," the doctor confirmed as he walked back in. He had taken blood from Sam around a half hour ago and was now holding up a sheet of paper with the results. "She's pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Sam asked. Freddie took the piece of paper that the doctor handed them and read it over quickly. A positive pregnancy test. Twenty weeks pregnant. Samantha Puckett written at the top in the doctor's loopy cursive. "But-but that's not possible," Sam continued.

Freddie's brain was still stuck in a loop like a bad movie. Sam was pregnant. They were going to be parents. He was going to be a dad at seventeen years old.

His mom was going to fucking murder him.

The doctor chuckled. "Listen kids," he said gently. "This is the weirdest way of trying to get out of getting pregnant I've ever heard." He sat at the foot of Sam's bed. "You're telling me you both touched a pulsating pink rock and now you're twenty weeks pregnant?"

"No," Sam replied, her voice snappy. "I'm telling you I was in sleepwalking and got the flu. My idiot boyfriend's the one with the, what was it again, Freddie, care to share?"

Freddie pulled at the edge of his sweatshirt. "Pulsating pink rock," he repeated.

"Right, pulsating pink rock," Sam mocked. She turned back to the doctor with an accusatory finger. "And you're telling me that I'm twenty weeks pregnant when again, that ain't possible. I might have failed biology but I know how that shit goes down and you don't get pregnant from a freakin' Star Wars rock!"

As if on cue, a nurse walked in wheeling an ultrasound machine. Her smile was too bright for - Freddie cast his eyes down at his watch - _1:21 AM_. "Alrighty," she started, her voice perky and shrill. If she noticed the tension in the room - especially strong from where Sam was glaring at the doctor like she was ready to kill him - she said nothing. "You ready for an ultrasound, doll?"

Freddie knew that an ultrasound was going to be a massive waste of time - it was one in the morning and he had a chem test the next day - but he was also sure it wasn't covered by Sam's already spotty health insurance. "Uh, actually," he began to protest. "I don't think that's-"

He was cut off by Sam. "No," she said. "Let's do the ultrasound. So that you'll-" she wagged a finger at the doctor, who raised an eyebrow "-understand that I am _not_ pregnant."

The nurse's smile dropped, but only for a minute. It was so miniscule that Freddie wasn't even sure Sam - blinded by rage - noticed. "Alright, doll," the nurse said to Sam. She set up the ultrasound fairly quickly and it wasn't long before she was pointing at the screen. "Here we go," she said.

Freddie looked at the screen and felt his knees buckle. He wasn't a doctor by any means, but there was very clearly a baby on the screen. The nurse pointed out the hands and the feet and the head. Freddie knelt down next to the bed, not trusting himself to stand. Sam reached behind herself to grab his hands and squeeze. Freddie looked down at his girlfriend, who met his eye. He'd never seen her look more terrified in her life.

"Holy shit," Sam whispered to him.

The doctor looked sympathetic for the first time that night. "I'll leave you two alone for a second." With that, he left, the nurse trailing him closely. With the door closed, Sam and Freddie were left alone with their thoughts.

For a long while, the two of them just sat there in silence, staring at the wall, as if the montomous puke green of the paint would tell them anything. From the other room, a baby wailed and a woman shushed it. Doctors walked by outside, talking quickly, their heels _tap, tap, tap_ ping on the floor.

"My mom is going to kill me," Freddie says.

As if a spell has been broken, Sam moves. She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes and groans loudly. "What are we going to do?" she asks. Freddie hopes it's a rhetorical question, because he doesn't have an answer for her. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case, as she turns to him and asks again, "what are we gonna do, Freddie?"

Freddie takes one of her hands in his and gently traces the lines of her palm. "Well," he starts gently. "We'll have to figure it out. We'll get through it together, Sam." He leans over to kiss her head. "I love you. You know that."

One day, at two in the morning when they were both drunk on the fire escape, Sam told Freddie the story of the day her dad left her alone with her mom. It was apparently early in the morning ("a little like this," Sam said at the time, motioning with the mouth of the beer bottle at the sky around them, dark save for the windows of people experiencing the early morning with them) and her mom and dad got in a fight. She told Freddie, with a pained expression he didn't previously think her capable of, of the way her dad yelled "fuck you and that mistake of a child. I'm never coming home again," after which he promptly stormed out the door, never to turn back again. ("But fuck him, right?" Sam asked, even as she twisted the ring that her dad left behind, her only memory of him, on her finger.)

This marks the second time Freddie's seen that pained expression on her face. He wishes, like that night on the fire escape, that he could fix it somehow, come up with some way to make it better. Unfortunately, he doubts this is a problem hard alcohol can fix.

Sam squeezes his hand before standing shakily. Freddie moves back a bit to give her space, watches as she gathers her things - her jacket and her bag, grabbed haphazardly as they left the Bushwell - and then looks Freddie over. "I need to go think."

"Alright," Freddie says as he stands up. "I'll come with you."

Sam shakes her head. "I need to be alone right now." At the look of concern that passes Freddie's face, she rolls her eyes. "Relax, nerd. I'll be fine."

"Alright," Freddie says again. He leans in to kiss her and Sam obliges, their lips meeting in a soft, longing kiss. Sam hesitates a little when she pulls back and, when she finally blinks open her eyes, tears threaten to fall from them. However, Sam Puckett doesn't cry in front of anyone - she wipes her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt and walks out of the hospital room.

Freddie stops at reception to give them his information and foot Sam's hospital bill. She doesn't have insurance and the test and their short stay at the hospital costs almost all of the money Freddie's saved up from working at the Pear Store. Once he pays that - with a sympathetic look from the sixty year old woman working behind the counter, whose nauseatingly fake smile makes Freddie want to throw up - he turns and is released into the cold October air.

Freddie looks at his phone for the first time that night. As expected, there are about ten missed calls from his mother, along with a series of texts (" _where are you?" "you are in so much trouble" "please come home, Fredward" "are you with that Sam?"_ ). Freddie ignores all of them - his mom is notoriously crazy at the best of times, and he's sure he's never going to hear the end of this one. He wants to spend as much time as possible being normal before he has to confront her - and reality.

He walks down the sidewalk, kicking at leaves as he goes, watching them crunch under his foot. He isn't sure how long he walks, just taking in the air, watching cars as they whizz past him. He wonders about the people inside (he can hear Sam calling him a nerd from here) - whether they're working the late shift, if they have girlfriends, if any of them are just taking in the October air in the same way he is, to clear their head too. If any of their heads are as messy as his are right now.

Eventually, Freddie comes to a park and sits on a swing. The last time he was here was with Sam, after school, in the twenty minutes when their high school lets out and before the elementary school lets out, when there are no kids on the playground. He remembers the way her hair looked in the afternoon light (gorgeous, framing her head like a halo), the way she smiled when she told him the idea for a skit she and Carly had (a Super Bra skit that sounded more Carly than Sam, honestly, but it made her laugh nonetheless and so he loved it), the way she ducked her head when he told her he thought she was gorgeous. ("Nerd," she breathed with no punch behind it). Now, he swings by himself, wishing he had her by his side. Sam makes everything make sense, somehow. Maybe this would make sense too, with her by his side.

As if on cue, Freddie's phone buzzes with another call. He looks, expecting it to be his mom, and is both relieved and a little concerned when Sam's photo lights up his screen instead. He answers without a second thought.

"Sam?" he asks.

"Freddie," Sam says, her voice rough like she's been crying. His heart drops to his stomach, but before he can say anything, Sam is speaking again. "Just shut up, okay? I have to get through this and it's gonna be damn near impossible if you start your nerdy blubbering."

Freddie almost smiles at that - it's just so Sam, like everything will really be okay. Then, she mutters, "fuck, sorry," and his heart shatters again.

"Sam-" he starts.

Sam interrupts him. "I'm leaving."

A million questions run through Freddie's mind. He feels like an English student doing an investigative journaling piece. _Who, what, where, why, how?_ "What?" he settles on. "Where are you going?"

"I can't tell you," Sam says. "Far." Freddie doesn't know what to say to that, but luckily, Sam keeps going. "I can't stay with my mom. She's a raging alcoholic. That's no environment to be p-pregnant in." She stutters over pregnant like she's not used to saying it yet.

"So just come stay with my mom and me," Freddie offers.

Sam scoffs. "Stay with Crazy? No thanks." Her voice turns serious, then. "You don't deserve this, Freddie. You have a whole future ahead of you. You're gonna be, like, valedictorian at Harvard or some shit. You don't need some white trash teenager who got pregnant weighing you down."

Freddie's heart breaks for the millionth time that night. Sam is so much more to him than that. She is his future. Everything he's going to do, he wants to do with her by his side. Unfortunately, he can't figure out how to voice any of that. "You're being ridiculous," he says instead.

"Maybe," Sam answers. She sniffles again. "You know, uh," she pauses awkwardly here. "You know I love you?"

She rarely says it, but when she does, it's powerful. Freddie feels like his breath is taken away as he replies, "of course I do, babe."

"Okay," Sam says softly. "Okay. Bye, Freddie."

"Wait, Sam-" Freddie says, but before he can say anything, there's a beeping on the other end. Sam hang up.

Freddie swears under his breath, drops his head to his hands and lets out a heaving sob.


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Here it is: chapter three of the world's slowest updating fanfic. I hope you like it; please review if you do so I don't feel like I'm screaming into the void. Thank you to everyone that has left such positive reviews. They really warm my heart, and I wish I knew how to reply. Alas, I'm a bit of an old person when it comes to this website. Please enjoy chapter three!

Lila leans against her husband's shoulder, cups of coffee scattered around them, both staring wide-eyed at the monitor. It's around two in the morning and neither of them has slept; Timothy has dark circles like bruises under his eyes, his hair a mess on his hand from running his fingers through it. Lila isn't in a much better shape, her eyes red and bloodshot from watching him.

The only sound in the room is the rhythmic tapping of Timothy's fingers as he types against the keyboard, their combined breaths, the beeping of the computers surrounding them.

"Did you find her?" Lila asks, her voice hushed so as not to wake up the kids, sound asleep in their room, blissfully unaware of the woes of their parents, trapped in Timothy's study.

"Almost," Timothy answers, his tone matching hers. They fall into a comfortable silence again, just the sounds of Timothy typing until the computer beeps and finally, _finally_ , Timothy says, "found her."

He pulls up a feed from Earth, where he zooms in on a seventeen-year-old girl frantically packing a bag, tears staining her cheeks. There's a sharp inhale of breath from Lila as she steps closer. "Can you check her vitals?"

Timothy does, a screen of blinking vitals (her blood pressure, BPM, body weight) on the screen before them. Timothy clicks around a little and sits back. "Oh my god," he whispers to Lila. She leans in a little closer to look, but it's of no use. Timothy is in charge of technology, she's in charge of scheduling deliveries. "She touched the rock."

Lila feels all the blood rush from her body, and she feels distantly like she's going to pass out or vomit. "So what, then? She's pregnant?" When Timothy nods, Lila has to sit down. "What do we do?"

Timothy opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes out. He drops his head to Lila's lap, his back hunched over, and groans. "Oh god," he says. "What have we done?"

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Sam wipes a tear from her eyes. She's been hiding out in her room all weekend, but she knows she can't stay here forever. She has a plan (a text from her Aunt on her phone that says 'see you soon!' and a plane ticket to Ohio on her dresser) and that's enough. She'll be fine if she focuses on the present, instead of thinking about Freddie and the rock and the pregnancy and everything else she's trying to avoid.

Sam puts the last of her things in her bag and plays with her phone. Her lock screen is a photo of her and Freddie at Christmas, the two of them in dumb hats Spencer made, obnoxious duck lips at the camera as Carly tried to take the picture while still holding her eggnog. ("I don't trust you enough to put it down," Carly said with a pointed glare at Sam, which, hey, fair enough.) For a second, Sam considers calling Freddie. He would know what to do. He would know what to say. Maybe they could work it out. Maybe she wouldn't have to leave. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But then Sam thinks about everything Freddie would be leaving behind for her. He has a future; she can't let him throw it away for her. She puts her phone in her bag and zips it closed.

Taking one last look at her room, Sam shuts the door behind her. Her mother, who stumbled in about an hour again, smelling like the bar and whatever guy she's engaged to this week, is half passed out on the couch clutching a bottle of whiskey to her chest like a lifeline.

"I'm leaving, mom," Sam calls to her mother.

The sound of static from the television is almost louder than her mother's reply. "Okay."

Sam huffs. She drops her bag on the floor and turns to face her mother. "Can you at least try to pretend you give a shit?" She asks. She waits for a reply to her mother. She wants anything: an apology, a fight, a sarcastic response. Instead, she gets nothing. Sam walks around the couch and finds her mother fast asleep.

Sam scoffs. "Typical," she mutters under her breath. She grabs her bag off the floor and slams the door shut behind herself.

Sam's aunt nearly tackles her as soon as she walks in the door. "Sammy!" Opal's in her early 40s, although you'd never guess it by looking at her. She's like a hippie plucked straight out of the eighties; long blonde hair streaked with pink falls over her shoulders and the bracelets on her wrist clink together as she pulls back from the hug. "I have so much planned for us!"

Sam gives her aunt a smile. She's appreciative, really, she is, but she hasn't slept since she touched the rock and the bags under her eyes speak for themselves. "I think I'd rather go to sleep right now, actually. I'm exhausted."

Opal's eyes trail down to Sam's stomach. "So it's true, then? You really are pregnant?"

Sam's smile falls. "It's true."

"Oh, Sammy." Opal puts a hand to Sam's head and lets her fingers card through her niece's hair. "I'll bring you to your bedroom. Come on."


	4. Chapter 4

_MONDAY (4:17 PM)_

 _Hey, you've reached Sam. I'm probably screening your call so I wouldn't leave a message but it's your life._

"Hey Sam, it's me. Listen, please come home. We'll figure it out. I've been saving some money from the Pear Store and I'm sure Carly and Spencer would help us or something. Hey, listen, I know you think you don't deserve me, but that's not true. You deserve the world. So please, please just call me back."

 _MONDAY (6:18 PM)_

 _Hey, you've reached Sam. I'm probably screening your call so I wouldn't leave a message but it's your life._

"It's Carls. Freddie told me what happened but I didn't believe him. Is it true? This isn't funny if it's a joke. But, like, if you're serious -. Just call me."

 _MONDAY (9:47 PM)_

 _Hey, you've reached Sam. I'm probably screening your call so I wouldn't leave a message but it's your life._

"I found an apartment we can probably afford if you don't want to live with my mom. Although she's not as bad as you think. If you'd just answer, we can talk about it. Please, Sam. I'll do anything for you."

 _MONDAY (10:23 PM)_

 _Hey, you've reached Sam. I'm probably screening your call so I wouldn't leave a message but it's your life._

"Hey Sam, it's Gibby. Do you have my cheese grater? Call me back."

 _TUESDAY (12:00 AM)_

 _Hey, you've reached Sam. I'm probably screening your call so I wouldn't leave a message but it's your life._

"Hey Sammy, I ain't think I'm comin' home tonight. I'm with the girls at the bar. You'll probably have to get yourself ready for school tomorrow. Don't wait up. I dunno when I'm gonna be home. Bye."

 _TUESDAY (2:19 AM)_

 _Hey, you've reached Sam. I'm probably screening your call so I wouldn't leave a message but it's your life._

"I miss you so damn bad. Call me."


End file.
